Antithetic
by Inkblot0Blue
Summary: He is not the same man as before, but that does not stop him from constantly questioning himself. Drabbles - spans from S1 Finale to S2 (up to Episode 5). Oneshot. [N. Ginoza]


**I**

* * *

Autumn leaves scatter the mud pools from last night's storm; the weather, misty and cold; the air, damp; the atmosphere, dull.

Drowned out by white noise and white light, he stares at his barely visible, distorted reflection in the puddle near the blood splatter. He sees the face of a young man, not him, and frowns. He cards a hand through his dark hair and sighs.

Inspector Tsunemori's words beckon to him. "Mr. Ginoza, can you please send this evidence to Ms. Karanamori for analysis?"

He nods, without fully registering what she says, and takes the clear, plastic evidence bag from his colleague's hands to the car. Just as he gets into the driver's seat, he is stopped by Tsunemori again.

"You do realise that you're no longer an inspector, don't you?"

"Damn."

A recurring mistake; a force of habit; it was stupid to begin with. He looks up at her and allows himself a small smile. She reciprocates.

"It is to be expected." She replies.

It was always like this now.

* * *

**II**

* * *

Chief Kasei would eye him as someone lower than low, worth nothing unless he lashed out.

And he wants to lash out and rebel but he doesn't; Nobuchika hides behind a weak, fake mask of security and a cold, calm persona.

It was pathetic, really– to be influenced by emotions. He had never stooped so low.

He knew where he had messed up, but there was neither regret nor remorse in the consequences that followed. It just meant that he had been put on a leash; a hound, a 'hunting dog' as they so called their occupation within the MWPSB.

And it was true. The Enforcers were merely dogs to the Inspectors.

* * *

**III**

* * *

He eyes the half-empty whisky glass in front of him. The golden liquid in it had settled and had been there for over ten minutes. He does not know when he'll pick up the glass again and gulp down the remaining liquid.

Aoyanagi's words ring in his ears. _"We should've had a drink sooner."_

Her voice had been sweet and soft yet had still carried an aura of mysteriousness to it; it was something so familiar to him. There had also been the biting sarcasm that they had exchanged, coupled with nervous titters of laughter.

On some nights, he would dream of her, working alongside him, like old times. He yearns for those short moments to return. It had been bliss.

But she was gone. The few brief times they had shared were but a fleeting melody and served as nothing more than a recollection of minutes and hours shared between inspector and inspector and later inspector and enforcer.

His stomach churns at the thought of the reopening wound, the mark tears at his skin, leaving a torn, pink scab in its wake.

_"__You performed enforcement on a latent criminal, that's all."_

He recalls those harsh words he said to one of the enforcers and feels disgusted with himself.

Aoyanagi was not meant to be like that. No. _Risa _wasn't _supposed_ to be like that at all.

He had made attempts to amend his statement but the words lodged in his throat, refusing to budge.

He remembers picking his words carefully and raising his head; his eyes were levelled with the other man's. _"Just don't appear in front of me for a while."_

It's not the first time he's said those words but it's the first time he meant them.

He imagines that they could've had more than this relationship of theirs.

It would never be.

* * *

**IV**

* * *

Ginoza doesn't smoke to allow the pain to ebb away or use it as a source for comfort and dependency; he smokes it for another reason that is still unknown to even him.

He takes a drag of his cigarette.

The smoke floats up to the ceiling and evaporates slowly, becoming nothing more than particles that merged with the dust in the air.

He takes another drag before flicking the stick into the bin.

It makes him feel nauseous and sick with irritation.

He is reminded of the face he no longer wishes to see; the laughing face that fills his dreams with philosophical analogies and smirks; the face of the man who had betrayed his trust.

Shinya Kougami.

* * *

**V**

* * *

_It's only a dream_, he tells himself.

The faces and voices are still etched into his mind; Kagari's laugh; Kougami's smirk; Masaoka's wise words.

All of their little gestures and sayings had always been ignored by him, ignored for work purposes. He had been driven by a stupid, stupid goal and it had only led him to the end of earth where he had been searching for the answer for so long.

The result had been this new lifestyle that Nobuchika hated so much.

Perhaps Ginoza should have appreciated them a little more; watched and contemplated a little longer.

Akane had been right: All of the remaining members of what had once been Division One – _their_ division – missed the three of them.

Nobuchika was even willing to say that they had departed from them for unnecessary reasons.

He sees their bodies right before him; he pictures it so vividly that he shuts his eyes closed to block out the images.

Akane had once asked: "Do you miss them?"

Three months ago, Ginoza's answer would have been a simple nod of the head and the avoidance of eye contact. Now, if she ever asked that question again, he would hold her tight and reply with a "Yes."

She's his only form of stability, should she leave, he would be nothing.

The thought continues to torment him, slowly.

* * *

**VI**

* * *

His eyes were a deep green, like the colour of nature.

His mother had always said that he looked beautiful, and his father had carried him on his shoulders and they would sing songs; songs that Ginoza had forgotten for years.

It was just that compliment that made his blood boil – occasionally for no reason and mostly because it was a testament to the other person he had tried so hard to forget: Masaoka Tomomi, his father.

With age, they had slowly turned grey.

To Nobuchika, grey symbolises death and depression. It really was not surprising, considering the circumstances and events he had been put through.

The glasses had helped shield him from the comments, and now that he was rid of them, he expected more citations of his eye colour. Yet, there never were mentions or questions, save for Tsunemori's ask and Karanamori's polite compliment when they had been chatting in the labs one evening.

Other than that, none.

* * *

**VII**

* * *

He raises the Dominator and points it at the fleeing criminal.

"Crime Coefficient is 167. Enforcement mode is Non-lethal Paralyser."

The gun comes to life and more instructions pour out of the built-in speakers. Ginoza ignores them; he's known this drill for too long.

He hears Tsunemori's cries. "Don't shoot him!"

She runs towards him and presses a hand on his weapon.

"You idiot," Nobuchika hears himself shout. "Why are you letting the target get away?"

His superior responds with a one-sided smile. "I can't recall the last time you've said that. It's been too long." She brushes her hair out of her face.

Nobuchika observes her as she makes a call to inspector Shimotsuki telling her to go on ahead without them.

"Why'd you do that?" Ginoza questions after she hangs up.

"I just felt like catching up with you again. Plus, Ms. Shimotsuki should really be learning how to handle a situation without my help all the time. It's like how you taught me, no?"

"True but I expect a report on your actions on my desk tomorrow morning." He repeats his old phrases from when he was an inspector. But this time, it's out of mockery and joking rather than irritation.

Akane laughs with him. "Indeed."

Somehow, in this moment, Ginoza realizes that he's never missed his old stuffy self. Maybe Tsunemori wouldn't object to a little procrastination.

He smiles a little at the thought before running after the criminal again.


End file.
